


Báigh Uiscí Dorcha

by SnowboundWanderer



Series: Our Hearts Entwined, Our Stories Onward [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crimson Flower, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Night Terrors, Nudity, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Spirit Animals, War is hell, some dialogue in foreign language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowboundWanderer/pseuds/SnowboundWanderer
Summary: The war is over, and peace reigns. Dorothea finds herself in a land of beauty with colors more vivid than she could have imagined, making a new life with the woman that she loves.So why is the war still happening whenever she closes her eyes? Why, in this new home where the waters are so warm and bright, does she feel herself drowning in the cold, dark depths?
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Our Hearts Entwined, Our Stories Onward [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563568
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Báigh Uiscí Dorcha

**Author's Note:**

> Báigh Uiscí Dorcha=Drowning in Dark Waters
> 
> The various cultural themes of Brigid in this fic are a mix of Ireland and Hawai‘i, due to the mishmash of Celtic and Pacific Islander we get in-game. Dialogue in the Brigid language (dubbed Brighealg) is Irish run through Google Translate.

The royal palace of Brigid sat at the southwestern tip of its main island. Standing on a cliff looking west towards the sea, one could make out the southern tip of the biggest island in the Brigid archipelago to the right, and a smaller island off to the left. When the time of the year was right, the sun would set directly between the two islands, creating an image worthy of only the most talented painters.

Tonight was one of those nights. The sun still rested above the horizon, casting brilliant hues of orange and pink across both the water and the sky; before long dark blue and then black would take over as the sun once again left for parts unknown, leaving its warmth to last for a time as the shimmering moon and stars appeared across the heavenly canopy.

Dorothea wished she felt anything from it.

Sitting on the balcony railing, idly kicking her feet, Dorothea found herself simply blankly staring out across the ocean, letting the colors and sounds of the birds making their last catches wash over her. It wasn’t long before she could see the darkness creep in on her periphery, which prompted her to slide back onto the balcony and begin walking into the palace, leaving behind a half-eaten meal.

No-one had come to fetch her in the evening: Petra was away meeting with local leaders on Brigid’s eastern island regarding changes taking place in Fódlan and its impact on them, and while Petra had wanted her to come, Dorothea had stuck to the line that her presence would have hurt her clout with them until Petra had been forced to accept it. The servants tended to leave her alone, especially when Petra wasn’t around, which Dorothea imagined was the best way they could show their disdain that their princess was betrothed to a street rat from the the country that had conquered them. She also wouldn’t be surprised if behind her back she was blamed for any perception that she was the one who had pulled Petra away from her home and into her public support of the Empire and Edelgard, using the poisoned tongue of a succubus.

A long time ago she would have taken umbrage at such sentiments, but now she found she couldn’t muster the energy for such things. Instead she walked until she found herself in her bedchamber, separate from Petra’s, and lay down on her bed until darkness took both the room and her.

————

Dorothea had no idea where the frontline was anymore. The battle had ended up becoming a disorganized slaughter and the comfort of Edelgard’s shield in front of her had long vanished. The battalion she had been commanding had been scattered, and she could see some of their corpses piled among those of innumerable others.

A sound of galloping drew her from her ruminations to see a lone soldier with Kingdom armor, lance lowered and headed straight for her. With no helmet to mask the figure’s look of rage, Dorothea saw a man: a very young man, definitely younger than she had been back in her academy days. She grimaced and unleashed her thoron spell at the boy.

But she’d wasted too much time thinking on her opponent’s youth, and he had gotten far too close. Instead of hitting him square in the chest like she’d intended, she found herself hitting the horse, which reared up in agony as the lightning coursed through it. Dorothea barely had time to dive out of the way of the collapsing beast, hitting the ground hard and feeling a blunt pain in her lower leg as part of the horse landed on it. Yanking her leg out, she tried to stand, only to fall onto her hands and knees as her ankle lit up in fiery pain.

Looking up, she saw the boy soldier only a couple feet from her, his entire lower body trapped beneath the horse, tears streaming down his beardless face as he tried to get free. As she shifted her legs to turn around and begin crawling away from him, his head turned to see her, his eyes went wide with terror, and his right hand went from pushing the horse’s flank to attempting to grab something at his side.

‘Dagger,’ Dorothea thought. ‘Dagger, and you’re too close.’ She felt herself fumbling at her own side but found her hand wasn’t able to grasp the hilt. She saw the arm reaching to his side settle, and in desperation she threw out her other arm and grasped his head, pressing her palm into his face. On instinct, she felt her hand heat up as she summoned what fire magic she knew.

The youth under her immediately started screaming, and Dorothea saw the arm go limp before reaching out and wildly lashing at her. She got as low and pushed herself as close to him as possible to avoid a punch, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes as she added a second scorching hot palm to the side of his head, praying it would end it quicker. She felt his fists weakly impact on her back, his screams and begging filling her ears, and the sweet smell of cooking flesh assault her nostrils, unwillingly reminding her of Raphael’s cooking.

She couldn’t say how long it was before the arms went limp, his screams stopped with a final ‘please…’ and were replaced with the crackle of a fire bereft of fuel, and the sweet smell replaced with that of copper and charred meat in a way that also reminded her of Raphael’s cooking. Realistically it was measured in seconds, but the entire war could have gone and ended for all she knew. Finally letting the fire in her hands die, she pushed herself up on her knees, staring at the blackened ball that had been a human head. She couldn’t see anything beyond it, and the galloping of another horse only dimly registered over the ringing in her ears. She wasn’t pulled from her stupor until she heard a scream and large thump on the ground just behind her. She whipped her head up to see a riderless horse gallop past her before she swung her head around to see a woman’s limbs twitching with an arrow sticking in her chest.

“Dorothea!” a small, feminine voice cried out, and she looked around until she spotted the purple hair of Bernadetta. The smaller woman was covered in scrapes and bruises, and also very alone. Bernadetta ran up to her and began pulling. “We’ve got to go! I think everyone is east of here, but the lines are reforming and we’re going to be stuck behind their lines. I don’t want to stuck behind their lines!”

Dorothea gingerly stood up, finding her ankle could support her weight if she stood still, but was certain it would give with very little movement.

“Oh no, oh no, your ankle!” Bernadetta cried out on seeing it. “Um-I can get the horse…of the woman I just killed…we can ride you back!” She began to run in that direction but only made it a few steps before she twirled to her left and her eyes widened in terror, nocking and loosing an arrow seemingly on instinct.

Dorothea turned to see a large group of Kingdom infantry had broken from larger mass of blue and red and were charging towards them, weapons raised and letting loose war cries. She saw one of them fall to Bernadetta’s arrow and heard the sound of another going off next to her, but there were too many to stop with arrows and simple spells before they were hacked to pieces.

Meteor was a spell that she tended only to use when ordered by the professor or the emperor, due to how massive and destructive it could be. But the professor had been gone for years, and Edelgard was nowhere to be seen. She felt herself raise her arms in the air, magic cackling with raw power, before swinging them down.

A couple seemed to notice the flaming rock appear above them, causing them to shout and stagger, but most died oblivious as the meteor impacted the ground, sending tremors through the ground beneath them and causing her bad ankle to give out. Looking up through the pain, Dorothea could see limbs gracefully arcing through the air and the soldiers on the spell’s periphery collapse as the flames engulfed them. The few that had escaped quickly fell to arrows.

“Oh wow,” she heard Bern exclaim. “You really saved us there. Now let’s get out of here!”

Dorothea looked down and shook her head. Every soldier within half a mile was probably trained on them, and she couldn’t walk. “Go Bern, I can’t keep up. You have to leave me behind.” There was no way she could allow herself to be responsible for Bernadetta’s death, and besides, the dead around her looked…peaceful. She could really go for peaceful right about now.

“No!” Bernadetta exclaimed, and Dorothea looked up to see her face set with a determination that broke her heart. “I am **not** leaving you, I-“ whatever she was going to say was cut off as they both heard more galloping. Bernadetta yelped and put herself between Dorothea and the noise, nocking an arrow before a familiar set of whistles caused her to fumble with the arrow. Dorothea looked around Bernadetta to see Lorenz and Leonie riding towards them, both leaning on their horses with their arms extended in synchrony, clearly intending to grab the two of them in stride. Dorothea stood up as quickly as she could with Bernie’s help and raised her hand until Lorenz, the closer of the two, rode past Bernadetta and grabbed Dorothea’s arm, essentially tossing her on the back of his horse.

“Fear not my lady,” Lorenz yelled in that prideful noble voice that not even dear Ferdie could match, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, will escort back behind the safety of our shield wall!” Dorothea wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or throw him off the horse, so instead she looked back to confirm that Leonie had similarly grabbed Bern before putting her head on a pivot to watch for threats.

It was several minutes and a few severed heads of Church soldiers before Dorothea saw a solid wall of black and red armor. Going through a parting, Dorothea could see Edelgard in the distance helping reform their lines, Ingrid take off low on her pegasus with Sylvain following behind on horse, Ashe, Ignatz, and Shamir firing off arrows into the distance, and all the others of her strike force.

Most importantly, she saw Petra, who had broken away from what she’d been doing to run up to them as Lorenz brought his horse to a stop. Her brown eyes that reminded Dorothea of Tiger’s eye, were filled with barely contained relief as she looked upon Dorothea.

“You are alive!” Petra joyfully said. “I was having much worry…I mean-oh!” her correction to her grammar was cut short as she regarded Dorothea’s now rapidly swelling ankle. “You cannot be moving on that. I will be taking you to a healer.” Whatever Dorothea had planned to say was cut off as Petra reached up and grabbed her, bringing her into her arms bridal style, beginning to move off as they both ignored Lorenz’s indignant cries.

Dorothea looked up and smiled at Petra, nestling in as close as possible to the warmth that was coming off her. Whenever Petra described Brigid: the sun shining in the sky, the warmth of the sand and water, and the vibrant colors that made it all up, she always ended up picturing Petra instead of an actual location. For she stood out among the drab Imperial soldiers with the vibrancy of her skin, tattoos, and clothing, the warmth that radiated from her kind heart was felt by all around her, and her smile eclipsed the sun no matter how high in the sky it was.

As if sensing her thoughts, Petra looked down at her, and catching her smile, returned it with all the brightness and warmth that Dorothea imagined. She felt her lips burn, and started to lift her head up in hopes of capturing Petra’s as if they would be the perfect salve for it.

A whistling sound went through the air followed by shouts, and Dorothea eyes widened as she saw in slow motion an arrow appear from Petra’s neck and jut out in front of her, dripping blood onto Dorothea’s face before she felt herself tumble to the ground. Looking up as fast as she could she saw Petra reared back, clutching her throat with both hands before she collapsed forward, her face mere inches from hers and twisted in pain. Gagging sounds filled her ears, drowning out her own screams, as blood leaked from Petra’s mouth before she went still, and Dorothea could only watch as all the light, warmth, and color left her forever.

_———_

Dorothea awoke with a scream, drenched in sweat and stomach roiling. She jumped out of bed and stumbled over to her chamber pot, retching into it but not getting the relief of voiding her stomach’s contents. She settled for breathing heavily over it, tears mixing with sweat as she felt every inch of her nightgown sticking to her.

The vast majority of the dream had played out exactly as it had really happened, except for the part where Petra violently died in front of her. In reality, there had been no arrow: Dorothea’s attempt to kiss her was ruined when Petra stepped on a rock and accidentally jostled her, sending her face straight into Petra’s bosom. She’d have normally considered that a win, but instead it had left both of them looking away from each other in embarrassment until Petra had found Manuela. By the time Dorothea’s ankle was healed, they were informed that the Kingdom and Church armies had retreated upon seeing the Empire doing to better job of reorganizing, but that their own forces were still too disorganized to properly pursue them. She hadn’t had to murder any more children corralled onto the battlefield based on lies and promises of glory; not that day at least.

Dorothea found that more and more of her flashbacks were starting to warp themselves in similar ways: the spots of hope replaced with bitter tragedy. Edelgard triumphantly raising her axe proclaiming victory replaced with her impaled on a lance, being carried around by the Tempest King like one would a flag; the professor’s miraculous return cut short. And she was sure that more would come.

Giving up on purging herself, Dorothea, feeling exhaustion sweep over her, went back to bed and lied down on her back, refusing to either remove her soiled nightgown or close her eyes, instead choosing to stare blankly at the ceiling. Sleep would not reclaim her, and she stayed there, unmoving, until the sun shining through the room made her get up and face another day.

—-

One of the perks of insomnia was being able to beat the crowd to the market. Dorothea was sure Petra would be displeased by that logic, but right now it meant she could get the best ingredients she needed: Petra would be returning before the day’s end, and she wanted to have a surprise for her.

She descended from the palace district into the middle rings of the city where the majority of the market stalls were. She found herself idly browsing the stalls from a distance as the merchants began to hawk their wares, eventually seeing a stall that looked to have what she need. She walked up, catching the attention of the young boy sorting through items with an older woman. He walked up to the stand, back straight in an apparent attempt to act older than he was, and he looked up at Dorothea intently with bright orange eyes.

Bright orange eyes marked with tears of rage as Cyril swung down on his wyvern, bringing his axe down on Lysithea. Dorothea could only watch with horror, knowing she couldn’t get a spell off in time, as Lysithea herself fumbled her spell in panic, sending it wide of the mark as she brought her arm up in a futile attempt to shield herself.

Edelgard appeared out of nowhere, seemingly defying all natural constraints of human ability when she dashed across the field in her golden armor, deflecting Cyril’s blow with her shield and swinging her axe with her other hand, catching him in the stomach and cleanly pulling him off his saddle like he were a toy. He hit the ground with a wet thud and simultaneous blasts from a prone Lysithea and Dorothea sent the wyvern scrambling away in pain. If Cyril had any final words, he was not given the time to utter them as Edelgard brought the gauntleted fist of her shield arm down onto Cyril’s face with all her might, and Dorothea could hear the sickening crunch.

Edelgard worked her axe out of the boy, and quickly helped Lysithea up. Another echoing roar came from the palace, making Dorothea’s hair stand on end and bring her back to their goal. Fires burned everywhere, the screams of trapped people resonated around like music at an opera house, and-

_“Hey bean, an dtig leat mé a chloisteáil?”_

Dorothea shook her head to bring herself back. The boy was waving his arm with her, a look of concern on his.

 _“Chuaigh tú i ndáiríre pale. An bhfuil leigheas de dhíth ort?”_ he asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

Dorothea recognized the word “pale” and “medicine” from that, but not much else.

 _“Uh, Tá brón orm, ní labhraíonn mé Brighealg go han-mhaith,”_ she said, feeling confident she could at least use the first full phrase she’d had Petra teach her.

The boy’s face screwed in concentration, thinking for a second before answering. “You…okay? You look very pale, are you sick?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Dorothea said, trying to sound as nonchalant as she can. “Still getting used to the Brigid heat. _Tá sé an-te._ ”

The boy gave her a smirk that she was very familiar with: she’d seen it many times on Sylvain or Felix’s face whenever one of them from Adrestia shivered in the cold north of old kingdom territory. “So you buying?” he asked, shaking her from her thoughts of distant friends.

“Yes, I’m hoping to buy some kalo, especially the leaves. I’m looking to make some laulau for that special someone,” she said, giving the boy a smile. Prices were haggled, and Dorothea acquired what she sought.

“You are from continent, yes? Are you visiting?” the boy asked as she was was about to turn away.

“Nope,” she replied, turning back and fixing the boy with a mischievous smile. “That ’special someone’ I mentioned? She tied me up and dragged me home with her to be her wife, so here I am.”

The boy’s eyes widened at that, and she heard a small chuckle come from the older woman still sorting goods. His eyes then lit up in excitement, “I want to travel to Fódlan! _Máthair_ says not till I am older,” he finished sadly.

“And how old are you?” the songstress asked, bending her legs to get on a more even level with the boy.

“Ten!” he said proudly, puffing his chest out.

The child, no older than ten, screamed into Dorothea’s ear as she grabbed her and spun her away from her mother, the woman’s eye’s white as she frothed at the mouth in unnatural rage. Dorothea could only press the child’s head into her chest to prevent her from seeing Casper come in and smash the mother’s chest in with a look of grim determination.

“Ten?” Dorothea said, somewhat shakily, as she returned to the present and found the boy looking at her with another concerned look. “Well you’re certainly preparing well for it,” she said, forcing cheer back into her voice. “Here I am, an adult, and you can speak my language better than I can speak yours. Guess that makes you the smart one among us, huh?”

The boy beamed at that, while Dorothea rummaged into her coin-purse and pulled out a couple extra gold pieces. “Here,” she said, pressing them into his palm. “Put them in your piggy bank for that future trip.”

“Piggy bank?” he asked, eyes wide at the extra gift.

“Um…something kids in Fódlan have, where they store the money they get. Just do yourself a favor, and when you do get to Fódlan, don’t use it to buy food in the Kingdom…or what used to be the Kingdom, you’ll thank me.”

The boy nodded eagerly and thanked her at his mother’s prompting, and Dorothea wished them both _“slán”_ as she departed back to the palace. Her spirits felt high for the first time in…she wasn’t sure how long, and decided instead to focus on making the treats for Petra’s return.

——————

Dorothea knew her good mood couldn’t last. How in the Goddess’ name could it, with what she’d done and when faced with her own blatant inadequacies.

It had started back at the palace when she’d realized she hadn’t gotten the meat necessary for the recipe. That was rectified by raiding one of the palaces pantries, but it set the tone for the disaster that had unfolded in the kitchen. She’d gotten the basics right, but a quick taste told her she’d badly overcooked the pork, and while she knew next to nothing about kalo leaves, she’d bet her singing voice that they had suffered a similar fate.

She was formulating a plan to bury the food and her shame when she heard a throat clearing behind her. Startled, she turned to see Petra’s grandfather standing in front of her, looking inquisitive.

 _“Do Mhaorga!”_ she exclaimed, hastily bowing her head lower in greeting before looking back at him. “I was just trying to…make something for Petra for her return,” she explained, channeling the airs she remembered using at the monastery. “I’m afraid it…didn’t work out very well,” she finished, glancing over at the plate and poorly containing a grimace.

The king nodded. Although he could understand the language of Fódlan just fine, he never spoke it. Petra privately attributed it to him not having the luxury of sounding confused or lacking when talking that Petra had had being a child learning it. Dorothea understood that, but a consequence had been that all their conversations had been through Petra; she couldn’t really recall ever being alone with him like this. Dorothea couldn’t help but gulp nervously, she was long overdue for the “so you’re marrying my granddaughter” speech.

While she was thinking about that, the king had moved to the tray of ruined laulau, and before Dorothea could stop him, he grabbed one and took a bite. The brief look of shock and disgust on his old face would have been comical if it hadn’t caused her heart to sink, but he quickly steeled his face and swallowed.

“Peta’s said that my cooking his horrendous,” she said, shaking her head and trying to sound ‘oh well’ sad instead of crushed.

 _“Ní gá ach cleachtadh,”_ her future in-law said, though she had no idea what that meant. He walked over to her and put one of his hands on her shoulders with a firmness that belied his age. Startled, Dorothea looked up to find him staring at her intently, in a piercing way that reminded her of the gazes Professor Byleth had given his students. Startled, she held his gaze, unsure of what he was looking for.

Whatever it was, it seems she’d been found wanting, for he eventually pulled his head back with his brow creased and a deep frown on his face. “Dorothea,” he said, nodding before walking off, leaving her alone to stare at her navel as the numbness creeped in.

—————————

“Dorothea!”

Dorothea, who had found herself again staring out from the balcony at the sunset, turned to see Petra emerging from the door to the palace hallway, her expression seemingly worried. She had arrived at the palace a few hours after Dorothea had disposed of her failed culinary experiment, but after a quick hug and kiss had had to meet with her grandfather and his advisors to discuss what had happened on the trip. Dorothea had operated on autopilot for the rest of trying, trying not to let old memories consume her.

Petra stopped in front of her, chewing her lip in a way Dorothea knew meant she was mulling her words. It put her on edge in a way she would have considered reserved for enemies.

“I am wishing to speak with you about…about some things I have been told,” Petra began, looking around and then continuing when she saw no-one else with them. “You are…not enjoying yourself in Brigid?”

“Whatever do you mean, Petra?” Dorothea asked, slipping on her flirtatious mask. “I’m living in a palace overlooking the ocean in a tropical paradise, and I have an absolutely _gorgeous_ lady to cuddle with. I’d say I’m living most people’s fantasies.”

“I…yes, I suppose you could be saying that,” Petra replied. “But…it has been two months since you came here with me, and while we at first shared the bed, you then wanted your separate room. You said it was because you were being worried about hurting my…my reputation, before we were married. I was accepting of this, but…”

Dorothea smiled as sweetly as she could, hoping it would disarm Petra. It sadly only caused her to falter for a moment before continuing. “I have been having the-been speaking to the servants. They say that you are not eating the necessary portions of food, and trying to hide it from us. They also say you are waking up screaming.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dorothea said, shaking her head. “I’m just…having trouble adjusting to the heat at night. It’s frustrating getting my nightgown sweaty all the time.”

Petra shook her head, clearly not believing in the her words. “I was having the discussion with my grandfather this afternoon. He was telling me he found you trying to cook something for me this morning. He said that he ‘looked into your eyes and saw deep pain, hidden behind a mask.”

Her defenses were gone, and she was easy prey for her enemies. Alarm bells begun to go off in Dorothea’s mind ‘ _Defend, counter, attack.’_

“Well, far be it from me to criticize your grandfather’s judgement, but I really don’t have a clue what made him think that,” she responded, her voice laced with sweet venom.

“Dorothea, _mo chroí_ , please,” Petra said, sounding as if she was pleading. “If there is something of burden to you, I would like you to be telling me what is.”

“Look, it’s nothing okay,” Dorothea lashed out, head suddenly throbbing as if the many hours of lost sleep were catching up to her all at once. “I’m here in Brigid, but I can’t read the books, my speaking is worse than the ten year old’s I talked to this morning, and even if they weren’t, what’s a songstress and actress to do in a place like _this?”_

Dorothea had seen Petra make many faces, from anger and frustration as she struggled with difficult tasks all the way to carnal bliss as she came apart under Dorothea’s fingers. So even though she covered it quickly with a mask of steel, Dorothea saw surprise cross Petra’s face before it fell, hurt welling up in her eyes over the slight the diva had made to her homeland, the place her very heart and soul resided.

“I…see,” Petra said, voice neutral but eyes cast downwards. “It is true that my people are not having the art and culture that is matching your talents. I will endeavor to find something that is worthy for them. I…goodnight, Dorothea.”

“Goodnight,” Dorothea said, too quietly for Petra to hear as the woman turned around and walked back into the palace. Dorothea stood there, staring at where Petra had disappeared until darkness started to creep in behind her. She felt like she wanted to turn around and throw up over the balcony, or throw herself off the balcony, but instead she started shuffling towards her room, head down.

———————

Dorothea crawled through the mud, climbing over Hubert’s corpse as she choked back a sob. There was nothing that could be done for him, and she needed to find someone. Pushing herself up, she looked around, seeing nothing but corpses clad in red and tattered formation flags planted and now abandoned in the ground.

“PETRA!” she shouted, ignoring the warnings her brain was sending her. “EDIE! PROFESSOR!”

Boots clamping through the mud behind her got her attention, and she turned to see two Knights of Seiros bearing down on her. She tried to raise her arms to cast a spell, but found herself unable to, as if her rain-soaked sleeves were now encased in lead. She stood there blankly as the closer knight eschewed his axe and instead brought his fist straight into her solar plexus. She felt all the air rush from her body as she collapsed onto the ground, stars clouding out everything else in her vision.

By the time she regained her senses, she realized that she was being dragged on her knees by the two knights, each one holding an arm. She kept her head down, not wanting to see the sheer expanse of bodies there must of been. Only when the knights stopped did she look up, and the sight caused her to let out a sob.

They were among the stone columns where Dimitri had started the battle, and there he stood, bloodied but tall. Impaled on his lance, face twisted in agony, was Edelgard’s severed head. His terrible visage momentarily turned away from staring at it to regard Dorothea, his expression surprisingly somber, before returning to it.

“Lady Rh-Seiros, we’ve got one of those ‘Black Eagle Strike Force’ members,” one of her holders said, making his voice as mocking as possible at the mention of their name. Dorothea turned her head and felt her blood run cold as she saw the crumpled body of the professor, and standing over them Lady Rhea, covered head-to-toe in blood, holding a human heart in one hand and the Sword of the Creator in both, whispering to and caressing it as though it were a lover. Her wild eyes turned to regard her, and a sickening grin grew on her face.

“Ah yes, the songstress who slept her way into our great halls, sullying every stone and brick she touched. And yet how did she repay the shelter and succor we provided her? With betrayal and heresy! Using her voice to seduce the common rabble with the ‘righteousness’ of the **former** emperor’s cause!”

Rhea started to advance towards the songstress, but stopped and turned at the sound of shouting. Dorothea turned her head as well, and her heart shattered as she saw two knights dragging a struggling Petra with them. The warrior managed to pull an arm free and pulled a dagger with astonishing speed, burying it into the side of the knight who had lost his grip on her. He staggered away, but several Kingdom soldiers who had been standing around idly started to dog-pile Petra, and by the time everyone sorted themselves the princess of Brigid was fully restrained.

“You,” Rhea said, voice full of venom as she turned to give Petra her full attention. “Princess of Brigid, outside of the Goddess' light! Even whores like this one and Manuela held faith in her at some point.”

“You will not be calling her that!” Petra shouted, her voice defiant.

Rhea reached where Petra was being held, and Dorothea saw her being brought to her knees before the Archbishop’s body obscured her.

“Once we have finished purging the Empire of the unholy filth that was taken root there, I will personally lead our armies to your shores!” Rhea shouted, shrill and unhinged. “We will burn you huts to the ground, salt the land you worship, and throw your babes into the sea!”

 _“ Agus gheobhaidh tú bás ag déanamh amhlaidh, ollphéist.”_ Petra spat out, and while likely no one present but her knew what that meant specifically, the gist of it was clear.

Faster than anyone could even blink, Rhea had descended upon Petra. The woman-no, monster’s body was blocking Dorothea’s view of what was happening, but it couldn’t block the screams that started emanating from Petra. It couldn’t stop her from hearing the the sounds of flesh being rent from a body. It couldn’t stop her from seeing the Kingdom and Church soldiers that had been around jump back in shock and revulsion, a few with a prime view turning away with faces holding back bile. But most of all, it couldn’t block the screams coming from Dorothea’s own throat, incoherent begging and pleading for the woman she had grown to love.

Eventually, Petra’s screams quieted out, and Rhea turned towards her, a smirk of satisfaction etched on her face as she looked down on her.

The knights that had been holding her and slackened the grip, and with nothing left in her body but pure rage surged forward, nothing but Rhea and death in her vision.

She expected the killing blow to come from The Immaculate One herself, so she felt a sort of numb surprise when she felt her body being pierced from the side, though whatever it was ran her through completely. She was turned against her will to come face-to-face with Dimitri.

He gently pulled her close, his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he pulled his lance out of her and she felt the air whistle through her gaping wound. She felt herself being picked up and then deposited on the ground, pressed up against a body. Although Dimitri’s strong hand came up to her face to prevent her from turning her head to view it, she could still see bobs of the rusty purple hair that had belonged to her Petra. Feeling a strange calmness overtake her, Dorothea stared past Dimitri’s face into the sky, vision blackening until she saw no more.

_———————————_

Dorothea shot up from her bed, beyond screaming as she felt herself start to choke. She stumbled her way out of bed, trying to reach the chamber pot. She got within a few feet from it before he couldn’t hold in the bile anymore and started making a mess of the floor. In the distance she could hear the sound of the door, but didn’t think on it until she felt her hair being gently pulled back and an arm wrapping around her chest to keep her from falling into the pile of her own sick.

“Shh…” she heard a voice that could only belong to Petra say, as she finished retching and didn’t resist as she was pulled into the warrior’s embrace, a damp cloth dabbing at her mouth.

“P-Petra?” Dorothea asked, feeling herself shake. “What are you doing here?”

Petra began to play with Dorothea’s hair. “I could not sleep, and decided to be checking on you.”

Dorothea began to even out her breathing, trying to focus on the warmth of her lover’s body next to hers. She pulled away, looking into Petra’s eyes and seeing the faint traces of fatigue among the deep well of worry, and what looked like the dry beds of prior tears. “You’ve been crying,” she managed to get out.

“That is not of concern right now,” she responded, giving a small shake of her head. “Dorothea, please be telling me what is happening.”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Dorothea said desperately, looking down and feeling herself on the verge of breaking.

“Please do not be saying that,” Petra replied, and Dorothea felt the other woman gently grab her chin and move her head up to stare at her once again. “Not when we are like this.”

Dorothea stared at her, feeling her lip quivering and eyes welling with tears. Then the dam broke, and she started to sob.

Petra pulled her in, and the songstress buried her face into her shoulder. Dorothea racked herself with sobs, feeling Petra’s hands making motions along her back and gentle cooing in her ear. After what felt like an eternity, she felt the tears subside, and she pulled back from Petra’s ruined outfit. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she croaked out.

“Please try,” Petra gently asked, bringing her thumbs to Dorothea’s face and rubbing the hot tracts the tears had left.

Dorothea did what she could to collect herself. “It’s like…it’s still happening.”

“What is?”

“The war!” she replied in frustration. “It’s over, we won! And yet every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back on the battlefield. I can hear the screams, smell the blood…and now I’m seeing it everywhere. I’ll just be walking around and suddenly I’m not in Brigid anymore, I’m fighting again, and I want it to end! I want it _all to end!”_

Dorothea crumpled before being brought into Petra’s embrace once more. They stayed like that for a long time, and she could see the darkness outside starting to fade before Petra pulled back.

“I am having an idea,” Petra said, sounding uncertain. “It has been helping-has helped me in the past, maybe it could be helping you.”

Dorothea doubted anything could help her, but she couldn’t turn down Petra’s offer, nodding in acceptance.

“We should get dressed, the sun will be rising soon,” Petra said, standing up and bringing Dorothea up with her. “You should be dressing for walking, the terrain can be treacherous without the correct footwear.”

———

No more than half an hour later Dorothea was following Petra down the slopes leading from the palace to the private beaches reserved for its denizens. She’d been down there many times with Petra: swimming with the turtles and dolphins during the euphoric first few days of her arrival. She hadn’t bothered to come down the last few weeks.

Petra had put on the uniform that Dorothea had seen her in many times before, sword at her hip. When she had raised her eyebrow at her bringing her weapon, Petra had only shrugged and clutched it tighter, perhaps because she found its presence reassuring. Or maybe it was because Kingdom and Church assassins were hiding behind every tree, eager for revenge; Dorothea would certainly believe that.

A root Dorothea didn’t remember caught her foot, and she stumbled forward, colliding with Petra. True to her assassin training, the other woman was able to spin around and catch her with astonishing speed. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“It is of no issue,” Petra reassured, and the closeness of their faces once again allowed Dorothea to see the dried tracks on the other’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, louder and more clearly, pulling away and righting herself. “About what I said earlier.”

Petra’s eyes widened for a moment before she quickly bowed her head, and when it rose up a pleased look was on her face. “It is bringing me joy to hear you say that. What you said was very hurtful, perhaps because…you have never said anything like it before.” Dorothea wanted to interject at this point, but the pensive expression on Petra’s face made her decide to allow her to continue. “You have always been having great eagerness to learn about my home, and at worst you only expressed misconceptions, which you were quite happy to have me correcting.” Petra brought one of her hands up to her chin, rubbing it in thought. “After I had reached my room and regained myself, I could not help but be thinking of your face when I questioned you.”

“My face?”

 _“_ Yes,” Petra said, nodding. “For most of the conversation you had on a mask of wellness, but you let it drop briefly, and you looked…cornered, like a wounded animal.”

Dorothea sighed. “That’s still not an excuse for saying what I did, but I appreciate that you’re willing to forgive me.” She paused briefly, considering. “I suppose I should also apologize for ruining the gown you had on with my display.”

Petra smiled and shook her head. “I am recalling that I once offered you my shoulder whenever you needed it.”

“You did,” Dorothea confirmed. “Well then, I suppose I’ll need to figure out how to apologize to the servants for the mess I made. I cleaned up the sick, but that carpet’s going to need a very through scrubbing. Goddess knows they hate me enough already.”

“The servants are not hating you,” Petra said, confused. “A few are…wary of someone from the Empire marrying into the royal family, but most find you fascinating.” She paused, face shifting in thought as she turned her gaze upwards towards to palace. “They do tend to avoid interacting with you directly though. Almost none of them understand your language, let alone speak it. I imagine they are afraid you will see them as…what is the term?…simple, that is it.”

“Oh,” Dorothea said, not sure what to make of that. She’d survived the cutthroat world of the Imperial nobility by being able to read people, was she really that off her game?

Petra reached out and grabbed Dorothea by the hand. “Come, let us get to the beach before the sun has fully risen.” Petra began moving again, and Dorothea followed.

The sounds of stones and mage fire impacting the ground swirled around her. Petra led her by the hand at full sprint. “We must go Dorothea, we are retreating!” Screams all around them as-

Dorothea collided with Petra’s back, having apparently started to run in the present. Petra spun around and again straightened her with her usual speed. At her worried expression, Dorothea shook her head. “Sorry,” she got out, “it sort of happened again.”

“Oh,” Petra said, beginning to slowly pull back her hand before Dorothea’s shot out and grabbed it. Entwining their fingers, Petra maneuvered herself to standing next to Dorothea, and they started walking again. “Which was it?”

“I don’t know, some battle we lost where you pulled my ass out of the fire like you always have,” Dorothea almost spat out, before calming. “I’m pretty sure that one was an actual memory though.”

“What are you meaning?” Petra asked, concern in her voice.

“Lately, especially when I’m asleep…things change. The display you walked in on earlier? I was dreaming of Tailtean, but it was…all wrong. Dimitri had killed Edie, Rhea Byleth, and…” Dorothea trailed off, shaking her head wildly.

“I think I am understanding, things are twisted to become worse than they already were,” Petra said solemnly. “It is like your mind is trying to hurt you.”

“That’s certainly one way of looking it at,” Dorothea replied as the two of them broke through the tree line and started walking on sand. They walked towards the ocean and endless southern expanse, known only to hold more islands: some under the rule of Brigid, some unclaimed havens for pirates. The sun had just started to peek over the eastern horizon, the blacks and dark blues beginning their retreat in the face of the new day. Petra stopped a few meters of short of where the tide was reaching, and Dorothea followed suit, looking at her inquisitively.

“You saw me doing this a few times during the war,” Petra began, turning away from the ocean to regard her financé. “But you never inquired about it, so I thought I might be teaching you, as it was able to help me gain peace of mind. Sit, and cross your legs,” she finished, gesturing at a particular spot.

Dorothea could guess what Petra was referring to, the “meditation” that she had seen her engage in, usually at sunrise or sunset. Cautiously, she sat cross-legged on the sand, placing her arms in the position she had seen Petra place them.

“Breathe in and out, gently. Focus on nothing but the sounds of the waves,” Petra said placing her arms lightly around Dorothea’s shoulders.

She closed her eyes, doing what Petra had told her. The light pressure on her shoulders faded as the the powerful roar of the oncoming waves ended with the gentle splash as it tapered out a few feet before her, before it pulled back.

In and out, forward and backward. In the distance she heard the sounds of albatrosses and tropicbirds among others waking up and starting their day’s hunt for fish.

In and out, forward and backward. The sound of the waves grew louder, and she felt the temperature inexplicably drop, a chill on her skin that reminded her of late autumn in Faerghus.

“Petra?” she asked, hearing her voice echo. When she received no response she opened her eyes and looked around, “Petra?”

Petra was nowhere to be seen.

Dorothea shot to her feet and spun around, taking in her surroundings in a near-panic. Forcing the panic down and letting the all too familiar numbness of battle to set in, she took stock of the situation.

The most immediate thing she noticed beyond the lack of Petra was that the sky was once again dark, the warming sun replaced with the innumerable stars dotting the black canvas. Keeping her eyes upwards, she turned towards the hill she had descended to find an empty space where the palace should be, as if humans had never touched it.

“Okay Dorothea,” she muttered to herself. “Don’t panic, there’s probably a perfectly logical explanation for all this.”

 ** _“Teacht, leanbh,”_** a deep voice called out, somehow both soothing and seductive.

Dorothea turned towards the water, which as far as she could tell was the source of the voice. In contrast to a few minutes ago, the ocean was now nearly still, only small ripples making their way across the water in unnatural patterns. The waters were also dark, almost as black as ink.

 ** _“Come, child,”_** the voice said again, and Dorothea distantly noted there were no other sounds, not even the beating of her heart.

She began stepping towards the water, kicking off a sandal and placing her foot into the water. Immediately her felt bone-chilling cold seep though her foot, quickly taken over with comforting numbness.

 ** _“Come,”_** the voice told her, so calming. Dorothea shed the dress she was wearing, leaving her bare as she began slowly wading into the water, at last diving under and having the numbness wash over her.

She looked up and noticed that the water’s surface was much further away than it should have been. Dark blues and greens filtered in from above, letting her see the languid swaying of the ocean’s undercurrents. Not bothering to try and swim back to the surface, she let herself float, and turned downwards, to the black abyss.

 ** _“Rest. Rest now child,”_** the voice said, coming from somewhere in the void below her. She closed her eyes, losing all sense of direction as she allowed herself to sink.

A bright light suddenly pierced through her eyelids, overwhelming her numbed senses. Opening them again as the light receded, she swirled around until she spotted a bright white and pink shape rapidly swimming towards her. Once it got close, Dorothea recognized it as a dolphin, bright and ethereal as it shone like gemstones. It swirled around her, squeaking in a way Dorothea interrupted as distress.

 ** _“Come. Sink. Know Peace.”_** At this, Dorothea felt something lazily wrap around her ankle. Looking down, she spied an inky black tentacle extending from the depths below, and another coming for her other leg. The dolphin darted at the other tentacle, hitting it with its snout. The coil retracted, and a terrifying, frustrated bellow emanated from the blackness.

Feeling panic welling in her again, Dorothea looked up and saw that the night sky above was gone, replaced with the colors of day. The water was much brighter now, but the light did not reach to where she was, still sinking.

The dolphin swam back up to her, bobbing back and forth and brushing against her shoulder, each time it touched her, images flashed through her mind:

Her standing on a stage, singing to a captivated audience in flawless Brighealg.

On the palace’s beaches, hosting a reunion luau for the Black Eagle Strike Force, Edelgard and Byleth cuddling next to her as they watch Petra demonstrate surfing to their awed comrades and assorted children.

Her encouraging a young boy in the classroom, as ice begins to form on his fingertips.

Of a young girl running up to greet her, throwing herself into her arms as Dorothea finds her vision obscured by braided fuchsia hair before the child pulls back and grins at her with emerald eyes.

Of her and Petra, old and grey and barely able to do much of anything anymore, getting themselves into a hammock on the beach, cuddling while they watch the glorious sunset for possibly one last time.

 _“Your hopes, your dreams,”_ she heard coming from the dolphin, though it’s mouth made no movement. It sounded vaguely similar to what she remembered her younger self sounding like. _“They can still be yours, child, but you must swim. Swim!”_

 ** _“Do not listen!”_** the deep voice said, with a possessive edge that Dorothea recognized from some of the more dangerous nobles she’d had to fraternize with. **_“You are wounded, broken. The only peace is rest.”_**

_“Swim!”_

On instinct, Dorothea began kicking her legs, hampered by the tentacle still wrapped around one of her legs. She beat her arms furiously, and felt herself moving upwards, closer and closer to the light and the surface. But it was still so far away, and her lungs started suddenly burning, as if suddenly remembering that they didn’t work underwater, but she kept kicking, and reaching, and-

———————

Dorothea shot up with a gasp, and started to cough as she briefly choked on her own saliva. She heard footfalls and suddenly the tanned skin of Petra was in front of her, the gleaming arcane steel of her sword thrust into the sand next to them.

“Dorothea!” she shouted, and the woman in question could recognize the tone of someone beside themself with worry. “Breathe!”

Dorothea got her coughing under control, and began looking around. Petra was in front of her, with a look of panic concealed by the steely determination that she had often put on in battle. She was once again fully clothed. The beach and ocean were as they were before, though slightly brighter as the sun had now fully crested over the horizon. The palace was there as it had been, and Dorothea noted the deep groove marks in the sand between her and the tree line.

“You are awake!” Petra said with relief, as Dorothea felt one of the princess’ hand reach for the pulse point on her neck while the other molded under her breast to feel her heart beat.

“What happened?” she asked, finding herself suddenly dizzy at the whiplash she was experiencing.

“You had begun the mediation, as I told you to, then after a few minutes…you became very cold and still, and then you fell back onto the sand,” Petra explained, her voice getting progressively calmer as she went on. “At first I thought you might have collapsed from exhaustion, but you didn’t respond to my attempts to awaken you.” Petra’s removed her gaze from Dorothea, and one of her hands moved to the hilt of her sword as she scanned the tree line. “I feared you may have been poisoned, but since your pulse and breathing were steady, I assumed that whoever did it was trying to capture you. I have been maintaining a perimeter, waiting for the palace staff who come down in the later morning to bring you back to the palace with numbers.”

“No, no poison, I don’t think…” Dorothea replied, and Petra seemed to relax at the assurance, despite having no actual evidence that there was no poisoning. “I just had a…dream, or something of that nature.”

“Of what?” Petra asked, abandoning her reconnaissance of the area to focus fully on Dorothea.

“I opened my eyes, and everything was different, I…” she started, before she began to think of all that she’d seen. She felt herself overwhelmed at all the images, and felt tears beginning to pool.

 _“Mo chroí?”_ Petra asked gently, taking the hand off the sword hilt and to Dorothea’s face.

“I don’t want to die, Petra,” Dorothea got out. Petra reeled back in surprise, and Dorothea found herself continuing to speak. “It would be so easy, to just give up and let the darkness claim me, find peace at last. She felt one of Petra’s hands on her shoulder, squeezing hard, as she looked up and locked eyes with her. “But that’s not me. I survived for years on the streets of Enbarr, fighting the hunger and the monsters who wanted to do terrible things to me. I survived the company, fighting the people who wanted to replace and the nobles who wanted me dead for rejecting them. And I survived the war, fighting all the people who didn’t care enough about their fellow person to face the changes needed. And I will survive this! I just…” she trailed off, voice dropping to a whisper from the yell it had been before. “I don’t know how to fight this. I don’t know how to fight the dark abyss that’s in my mind.”

Petra got down on her knees, pressing herself up to Petra. “I am sorry, I am-do not know what to do,” she said, and Dorothea could see the tears forming at her eyes. “I brought you here because it helped me, but…am I not knowing how I can help you."

“I don’t think you can, love,” Dorothea said sadly, bringing her own hands up to cup Petra’s face. “I have to…swim by myself. I just…ugh,” she said, feeling a spike in her head as she brought one of her hands to cup her forehead. “I wish someone could explain all the damn things I saw.”

“What are you meaning?”

“I was…in the ocean, it was cold and black, and a voice kept telling me to sink. But then a glowing dolphin came and told me to swim to the surface. You’d think I’d taken something beforehand,” she finished with a snort.

Petra’s expression had become pensive as Dorothea finished. “Perhaps…” she said trailing off before her face lit up. “It sounds like you were contacted by the spirits!”

“Really?” Dorothea asked, surprised at the idea. “The spirits of your homeland reaching out to the commoner from Fódlan?”

“I am not knowing,” Petra said, shaking her head. “My knowledge of the spirits is…not what it should be, because of all the time I spent in Fódlan. But what I witnessed, and what you described? It sounds like stories I have heard about visions that people have had.

“I don’t know, Petra…” Dorothea said, not looking to crush the girl’s hopes, but feeling her own hopes needed tempering. What Petra described was certainly an upgrade from a crazy dream, but…

“We should talk to my grandfather,” Petra said, standing up and pulling her blade from the sand, batting it against her leg before sheathing it. “He has much wisdom, and he should be able to point us in a direction.”

“Petra…” Dorothea said, finding terror gripping her at the thought of the king knowing anything about the troubles that plagued the mind of the would-be queen consort.

“Dorothea,” Petra said, looking down at her with determination. “If neither of us are knowing how to fight this, then we must seek knowledge, wherever we can find it. Shall we begin?” An arm extended, and Petra offered Dorothea her hand.

Dorothea regarded Petra’s expression before reaching out and grabbing it, rising with assistance so she was standing alongside her. They both turned towards to palace and began making their way back.

————————

Dorothea had expected something intense to immediately happen as a result of their conversation, but she found herself spending most the day lounging. After Petra had gotten an audience with her grandfather, Dorothea had made herself busy around the palace, finding it pointless to sit in on a conversation in a language she was still in the infancy of understanding. Petra had ended up being with the king for far longer than either of them had anticipated, and Dorothea wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. It wasn’t until the late afternoon shortly before the dinner bell that Dorothea saw Petra walk into the library she had settled into to.

“That took a lot longer than expected,” Dorothea said, as Petra approached her. Indeed, the woman looked drained but also quite happy.

“I talked to my grandfather about many things, including what I had went to him for. Much ended up being decided,” Petra replied, plopping herself down into a chair next to Dorothea’s standing form.

“Like what?”

“The succession. We are now very close to Lughnasadh, and my grandfather is expressing his wish to abdicate and give the throne to me during what Fódlan would call the Spring Equinox. There is much to do both before then and immediately after.”

“What is it called in Brigid, if not the Spring Equinox?” Dorothea asked.

“We are only really having two seasons in Brigid: summer and winter, and even then the variations are more in rain than temperature,” Petra explained, sitting up straight. “We have traditionally considered the equinoxes the transition between the two seasons, with the solstices as the midpoint, and the other holidays as the midpoint between them. We usually call them as the Summer or Winter Equinox, but I have found that creates confusion with Fódlanders. Most consider Spring and Fall to be transitional seasons regardless, so it is not difficult for me to translate it.”

“I see,” Dorothea said. “What about declaring independence?”

“It would be one of my first acts as Queen, though a formal declaration with treaties would probably wait until Beltane or another festival day. I am sure there would be much celebration to plan with it,” Petra said before glancing up in thought. “It would also be an excuse to be having Edelgard and our friends who are part of the Fódlan government to come over. I could finally be giving them tastes of our food and drink.”

“And Edie’s on board with this, right?” Dorothea asked nervously. “She’s not going to fight to keep Brigid as part of the Empire?"

Unbidden, Dorothea’s mind transported her to the beach, skies thick with smoke as she desperately threw fire at approaching ships and landing boats. All for naught as she she the Emperor and her lover’s forms crash into the sand, weapons high as they charged-

Dorothea shook herself back to reality, finding that Petra had gotten up and had grabbed her shoulder. She sat down in a chair herself, looking down with a sigh.

“Edelgard is onboard, as you say. There will be many negotiations in the next few months to ensure there is as little disruption to trade links as possible,” Petra said softly, rubbing Dorothea’s arm. “There will be no fighting, especially not with our friends.”

Dorothea threw herself into the chair’s back and sighed with relief, mewling a little bit as Petra kneeled to shift her massaging hand from her arm to her calf.

“Of more importance…” Petra began, pausing and waiting for Dorothea to look down at her. “I discussed with my grandfather about…your troubles. He was very helpful.” Dorothea didn’t dare speak, so Petra continued. “He is saying we should go to the Druidic Circle, that they have experience in healing ‘wounds of the mind’, as he called it. He described some of their methods: there seems to be much talking and introspection, as well as taking of potions. None of it is seeming dangerous, at least.”

“I’ve never heard of the Druidic Circle” Dorothea said, sighing as Petra removed one of her sandals and began massaging the foot with both hands.

“As you are knowing, we are having-have many shamans who commune with the spirits. Druids are a type of shaman that focuses on nature, and how we give and take from it. The Circle is a collection of them. They are the most organized spiritual and religious group in Brigid, although they have nowhere near the organization the Church of Seiros did. The Circle tends to be quite learned, and serve as what you would call ‘natural philosophers’ in addition to their spiritual duties.”

Dorothea took all the information in, looking down as Petra’s gaze shifted to her work, moving over to Dorothea’s other foot. “And this could help?”

“It is hard to be saying for certain,” Petra said. “I am not knowing the Circle and their techniques as much as I need to as Queen, so I will have things to be busy with when we go to them.”

“When would we be starting this?” Dorothea asked, feeling a nervousness building in her gut as she tried to focus on the sensation of Petra’s hands on her.

“I was thinking we should go tomorrow. The Circle’s biggest encampment is on the big island, with my pegasus we can get there in maybe two hours crossing the ocean straight from here,” Petra said, looking up to gaze intently at Dorothea. “Would this be working?”

Dorothea gulped heavily, nerves dancing through her body.

_**’Sink or** swim .’ _

Dorothea found herself nodding, and Petra’s face broke into a smile. The dinner beer sounded shortly after, and Petra put Dorothea’s sandals back on as they both stood.

“In case you were thinking it,” Petra began as they began walking side-by-side towards the dining area. “My grandfather did not make any suggestions of canceling our marriage.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Dorothea said quietly, more relieved than her stilted response would indicate. “The next Summer Solstice, then?”

“Yes,” Petra said, nodding. “Having it on the longest day of the year is considered a good omen. Many weddings are always part of the festivities, as you saw.”

For the first time in a while, Dorothea found herself feeling absolutely famished, and once they had sat down to the dinner of Kalau pig with rice and poi, she greedily dug in. As they all ate, Dorothea caught the King staring at her, and when she locked eyes with him, he gave her what she read to be a sad, empathetic smile.

——————————

Dorothea stood on the private balcony of Petra’s room, gazing at the setting sun. The colors cascading across ocean felt warmer than they had since her first days in Brigid, despite the sun having sunk almost completely over the horizon. She closed her eyes and basked in it until she heard another figure come out with her. Opening her eyes she turned and smiled as Petra moved to stand next to her.

“You know you’re standing out on a balcony completely naked, right?” Dorothea asked, quirking an eyebrow at her lover’s nude form.

Petra merely smiled and shook her head. “Nakedness is practical in the summer. Many people go naked in public when it is hot or there is rain.”

“Huh. Can’t say I’ve seen much of that outside people swimming,” Dorothea said, racking her brain.

“You have only been spending time in the market, where people are wearing clothes to protect their skin from the various objects lying around. If you visit other areas it will be more common,” Petra explained.

“Guess I need to get out more then,” Dorothea replied.

Petra laughed slightly. “If you have been wearing that gown to bed, I imagine you have gotten quite sweaty,” she said, briefly grabbing and tugging one of the sleeves in question.

Dorothea sighed, not wanting to admit to Petra or herself that she’d been wearing it like armor. But what use was armor when the threat was from inside? And when the remnants of her terrors would cling to the armor and weigh her down? Locking eyes with Petra, Dorothea grabbed the her gown by the waist and pulled it up and off, tossing it back towards the door as she stood bare under Petra’s gaze. “Well, here you go,” she said, throwing her arms out and nervously glancing down the balcony to the admittedly narrow strip of land and walls before the cliff face.

“Do not be worrying,” Petra said, smiling and eyes dancing with hunger. “This is a very private balcony, and even if someone were to be seeing us, who is caring?” she asked, pushing herself up to take the taller woman’s ear lobe with her teeth.

Dorothea felt a wave of fatigue overtake her as Petra’s hands started moving from her shoulders to her breasts. “Petra..”

The woman in question stopped immediately, pulling back to look at Dorothea with an apologetic expression. “I am sorry, you must be very tired. Just…it has been several weeks since I have seen you like this. It fills me with excitement, and hunger.”

Dorothea shook her head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just…my libido’s been low the past few weeks. Haven’t really been doing my ‘wifely duties’, have I?”

“You are not having obligations of that nature.” Petra said. “It is understandable, and you are not needing to be worrying: I have been taking care of myself, as I am believing the expression goes.”

“Oh?” Dorothea expressed, cocking an eyebrow. “Maybe in the morning I could watch you? If you’re okay with that.”

“I would be enjoying that greatly,” Petra said, smiling and grabbing Dorothea’s hand. “But the sun is gone now, and you are tired. Let us go to bed.”

Dorothea followed Petra as they went back into her bedroom, shutting the doors. They both crawled into the bed, pulling up only a paper thin sheet to cover them.

“I am filled with happiness that you are with me tonight,” Petra said softly, as they settled in.

“I thought being by myself would let me fix things before you saw how bad it was,” Dorothea sighed, scooting closer. “Guess it doesn’t work that way.” She locked gazes with Petra, silently watching each other for a few minutes.

 _“Mo ghrá thú,”_ Dorothea said, deciding to risk future sweat and close the gap between them. “I just wish…I wish that was enough to solve everything.”

“I am wishing that to,” Petra said sadly, wrapping her arms around Dorothea. “But you are strong, and we have a path. You will be victorious. Of that I am having certainly,” she finished, sounding confident. “Oh! And I am loving you as well. With all my heart.”

Dorothea pulled her in for a short kiss before they separated and drifted off to sleep.

—————————

Dorothea found herself coming to consciousness, slightly sweaty but not overly so, and wrapped up with another warm body. She started, but quickly remembered where she was. Next to her Petra stirred, opening her eyes and smiling at her.

“Good morning,” Petra said sleepily, and the light starting to come in confirmed at was indeed morning. “Did you have the good sleep?”

“I…” Dorothea started before stopping thinking. Not once did she wake up in terror, mind filled with blood and death. “I didn’t have any nightmares.”

“That is wonderful,” Petra said, pushing herself up the headboard to sit up while Dorothea got on her hands and knees and crawled to the foot of the bed, where a pitcher of water and some glasses were kept along a table. Feeling Petra’s gaze on her, Dorothea pushed herself up to her knees, pouring a glass for herself and taking a deep drink.

“Before we depart this morning…” Petra began huskily, and Dorothea shifted herself to face her. “You were saying last night you wished to see me take care of myself. Would you still be liking that?”

Dorothea felt herself blush, in spite of everything, and took another gulp of water before reaching behind her to place the glass down. “Yes,” she said, softly enough that she wondered if Petra heard her.

Evidently she did, for her smile broke into a toothy grin before she angled her hips upward and spread her legs wide, giving Dorothea the most wonderful view of glistening folds.

“Oh my,” the songstress said, captivated. “Looks like you need it.”

“I was spending the night with the most beautiful woman’s naked body pressed up against mine,” Petra got out, as one hand got to work between her legs and the other played with one of her breasts. “I could not be- _hmm-_ any other way.”

Dorothea stayed where she was, unconsciously widening her stance as Petra pleasured herself with the ferocity Dorothea had learned to expect from the huntress. A fire in her belly started to ignite then turn to molten metal as her gaze shifted along Petra’s form. Wherever she stared, she could tell that not once did Petra’s gaze leave hers, fighting back the desire to close her eyes and throw her head back. She could feel it on her face, her breasts, and her increasingly wet thighs.

When Petra came, it was with a shout of Dorothea’s name on her lips, eyes locked with each other as Dorothea saw her legs shake and flower convulse. Only after she settled did she close her eyes, falling back against the headboard with a content smile. Dorothea continued to stand on her knees at the foot of the bed, biting her lip and feeling her legs shake under her.

Petra opened her eyes again and regarded her with a warm smile. “You are needing the taking care of yourself, or you will be distracted all day. Would you like me to give you privacy?”

“No,” Dorothea said, leaning back until her rear was pressing against her nearly interlocked ankles. Petra was right, and she wanted her to see just what she did to her.

The angle Dorothea offered wasn’t as good as the one Petra gave her, but she found herself unable to focus on that as her hand practically dove between her legs and started working furiously. Her mind was hazy, hearing Petra offer encouraging words but unable to focus on it. Barely after starting, she felt herself come undone, shouting Petra’s name and falling forward, spent.

Her breathing started to even out as she felt Petra’s arms wrap under and armpits and start pulling, sliding their bodies against each other until they were face to face. They locked lips, tongues fighting for dominance until they pulled apart for air.

“You know,” Dorothea said. “I didn’t have any nightmares, and I feel so happy right now. Maybe we don’t need to go to the Circle. We can just stay here this morning.”

Petra’s face fell slightly, taking on a serious expression. “Are you believing that, truly?”

Dorothea sighed, playing with Petra’s hair to district herself. “No, no I don’t. It’s all waiting around corner somewhere.”

“Then we should probably be going soon,” Petra said. “Though I would like to be staying here as well, we are burning the sunlight.”

“Daylight,” Dorothea corrected, lifting herself off Petra and getting out of the bed. After offering a thankful Petra a glass of water and pouring another for herself, she got dressed with the clothes she’d brought last night. Looking back, she saw Petra fully dressed and drinking more water. “Do you think…you could ask the servants to move my things back in here?”

Petra positively beamed at her.

———————

Not too long later Dorothea was throwing saddle bags over Petra’s pegasus while she brushed out its mane. “Sometimes I forget that you can ride a pegasus, I only recall you using him a few times in battle.”

“I am preferring swords as my weapon,” Petra replied. “And lances are much better on one than a sword. Besides,” Petra said, turning to Dorothea and grinning. “With you, I am no longer getting training with lances, now I am training with…” Petra’s face scrunched up in frustration.

“What?” Dorothea asked.

“I was trying to make a joke, but could not think of a weapon to be a metaphor for a vulva, and now the joke is being ruined,” Petra sighed sadly, shaking her head.

Dorothea started giggling and found she couldn’t stop until Petra slapped her on the back. “Well then,” she said glibly, swatting Petra on her butt as she got onto the pegasus, “let’s get _mounted_ and start _riding.”_

Petra laughed as Dorothea climbed up behind and wrapped her arms around Petra’s waist. They took off in a trot until they reached the northern edge of the palace, and at Petra’s command the pegasus spread its wings and took flight.

They spent several minutes sailing high above the water before Petra began angling them down until they were skimming the water. Dorothea saw the pegasus draw his legs up, and soon her feet were dangling just above the ocean. Glancing off to the side, she saw fins breaking out of the water before a dolphin jumped from the surface, spinning next to them before falling back into the ocean, hitting them with spray.

Both Dorothea and Petra laughed, as more dolphins began breaching the water on either side of them. Petra pulled the reins slightly and their pegasus slowed to match the pod’s pace.

“I’ve seen them do this from a distance, but to be right here with them…” Dorothea said in wonderment, reaching out a hand.

“The hunting of dolphins is forbidden in Brigid,” Petra said, reaching out a hand on the other side. “They have helped our fishermen by herding fish and using their tails to show where to throw the nets.”

“Wow…” Dorothea said, as one kept it’s eye above the surface, staring at her. “You know, when I had my dream, or vision, or whatever it was: it was a dolphin that showed up and helped me.”

“That is a good omen,” Petra said. “You are very much like a dolphin, I am thinking.”

“How so?” Dorothea asked.

“You are playful, and also very intelligent, working with others. And like all creatures in nature you have the strength and will to survive.”

Petra turned back and smiled, before facing forward and guiding her pegasus with the pod. Leaning over, Dorothea could make out the smile still on her face as she gazed ahead. Reaching down and feeling one of her hands skim through the ocean surface, Dorothea’s smile stayed put as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere in the world of Fire Emblem: Three Houses there is a group that has a halfway-decent idea of handling mental trauma.


End file.
